Bad Things - 5 Drabbles
by stormcin
Summary: AU. Flynn / Hans. Slash. Disgraced Prince Hans tries to use the thief to get what he wants. Told in 5 related drabbles.
1. Kept

Flynn scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "So what? I'm a kept thief?"

Hans barely lifted his gaze from the book on the desk, his forest green eyes watching him from underneath his dark lashes. "Better a kept thief then a kept whore." The light from the fire flickered over his face, darkening the shadows under his gaunt cheeks. Now he lifted his eyes to his, a chill entering his tone. "That is what I saved you from, isn't it?"

Breaking away from the hold of Hans green eyes, Flynn studied the scratches in the wooden wall that showed beneath the tattered tapestries. Hans was right. Hans was always bloody right. It had been Hans that had shown him the way into the palace of Arendelle, and had allowed him to survive without using his body as a money-maker.

It was him and Hans. The kept thief and the disgraced prince.


	2. Combustion

Hans' breath was hot against his ear, his body warm behind Flynn's. "Come now, Flynn." Hans growled, suggestion rasping in his voice. "You wish to make me happy, don't you?"

Swallowing hard, Flynn wrenched himself from the hold of the prince. Hans' nails dug into his skin as he did, raking bloody trails. Just another sign of the Prince's ownership of him. "I told you, I'm done."

Hans raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow though the expression in his cold eyes didn't change. "Must I remind you, that I own you?"

"No." Flynn snapped, hating the goosebumps the words raised on his flesh. He despised the reactions that Hans caused within him. "You don't. Take Arendelle over by yourself."

Stepping forward, Hans caught his chin with harsh fingers. He jerked Flynn closer. Blood raced through his veins, pooling in places it shouldn't have gone. Trying to heave breath into lungs that wouldn't take oxygen, Flynn shook his head. The motion didn't dislodge Hans hold. "You don't own me."

"I think I do." Hans snarled, conquering Flynn's mouth with his.

Flynn felt his blood combust.


	3. Clean

It had been a long time since Flynn felt clean. When he was younger, when the thieving was good, he didn't mind his life. Flinch a few jewels here, a few coins there, plot to steal a couple of crowns. Life had been good. That was before the royals of Corona had put a lucrative price on his head and he had met Hans.

Now his body was covered in invisible burns from the Prince's mouth. And his hands bound by invisible chains.

Even if ran now, could he escape the hold that Hans had on him? Already he dreamt of the Prince, found his hands tracing the bruises on his body. He hated the desperation he felt when Hans wasn't there. The way his body yearned for his touch. The way his thoughts would turn to the Prince's fingers, or the heat of his mouth.

Flynn was beginning to wonder if he would ever feel clean again.


	4. Constellations

Hans' hand was warm over his, a parody of the stinging hand mark on his arm. As Flynn leaned closer to him, tucked under the curve of his arm, Hans grinned down at him. The grin of a wolf. Even with the predatory grin, Flynn felt his pulse pick up. Hans laced his fingers through Flynn's, nails scraping across skin.

The night air was cold against his skin, prompting Flynn's movement closer. It was almost nice though, lying on the roof, his head pillowed on Hans' chest. Blackmailed by the disgraced prince though he was, there was a few things he liked about his servitude.

Above them, the stars glimmered. Tonight at least, the stars seemed brighter in Arendelle then they had in Corona. Hans seemed to see where he was looking. The prince raised a hand and traced a shape in the sky. "See that one? That's a swan."

Flynn looked, but all he saw was a collection of stars. "Which one?" In his youth, he had often looked at the stars, but he had never known names for the constellations. He had heard that there was swans and bears and men and women in the sky, but he had never seen them.

Hans shifted, raising himself up on one elbow. He laughed slightly, taking Flynn's hand and drawing in the sky. "See it now?"

Squinting, Flynn tried to imagine a swan in the sky. Pure white wings outstretched, neck long and leading to its slim head. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see the bird drawn out between the stars. "No."

Hans turned cold eyes to him, knocking Flynn's head from his chest. "Are you stupid? How can you not see it?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry."

And just like that, the moment was ruined.


	5. Known

He should have known it would end this way. A puddle of crimson and encroaching blackness. He should have known. He supposed he had in a way. Had seen the expectation of death in Hans' forest-green eyes every time they met, felt the caresses of torture every time their fingers had stroked each others' heated flesh.

Nonetheless, the promise of Arendelle's treasures and the heat that Hans filled him with had been enough to keep him bound to the disgraced prince. Had been enough to delude himself with. Had been enough to keep him from running from his fate.

Even though he had known it would end in an ocean of blood.


End file.
